Turn Around
by BE4UTIFUL
Summary: Mimi doesn't think she's anything like a dumb blonde. After all, her hair is pink. Mimato, AU. HIATUS
1. you got a boy, you got a girl

My try at being funny. Ha… ha…Hopefully I'll finish this, but it really depends on whether anyone is interested.

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**.o1 **_you got a boy; you got a girl_

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My mother used to tell me all guys are interested in only one thing: how a girl looks. If she opens her mouth, he closes his eyes. If she needs someone to talk to, he buys her a stuffed animal. If she wants them to be committed, he'd rather commit suicide.

I think that's a rather pessimistic view on relationships. After all, there's like six billion people on the planet, and if you count out all the "mistakes" and twins and whatnots, it should all work out to be _at least_ three billion people or so that were conceived from a happy couple, right? A happy couple who loved each other enough to start a family together with a dog and a house with a white picketed fence. (I personally prefer natural brown fences. White is _so_ overrated.)

Then again, what are the divorce rates nowadays? One in two marriages, last time I checked. Well, I didn't check. Joe checked. And Joe's always right so it must be one in two. Unless I remembered wrong, in which case Joe's correct but I remembered wrong and it's like three in two marriages instead, or something… I mean, two in three. Or something of the sort…

…Anyway, my point is, perhaps the couple is happy for a brief moment. You know, daisies and sunshine and rainbows – the works. (I'd actually rather have a cat than a dog.) And then suddenly, one daisy-less, cloudy morning they decide to throw in the towel and toss court documents in each others faces. In which case, Mum is right and men are pigs. I'm sure the pigs aren't too happy about being compared to men either.

Well, some women can be like men too when it comes to relationships. I mean, take a boy, any cute single-looking boy – like that one (_oh_… that one…) standing by the window. I mean, he's cute (_hot_) and all with his… really nice blonde hair… and his eyes actually match the sky's blue…

…Okay, so let's take him as our single boy in this hypothetical relationship, and set him up as the one to be crushed after finding out that his girlfriend ran off after some other guy because that other guy was better looking. (Which is like, not very likely.) Well then, in this scenario, our male would have every right to call said (ex) girlfriend a pig. Logic correct? Except, you don't really hear very often that women are pigs. So it must be that men are the more shallow sex, leaving poor women heartbroken everywhere.

You _do_ hear that a woman is a slut quite often. But then you'd have to remember that to be a slut, a male had to have been involved. Which would make the man part-slut as well. And he's already a pig, so he'd now be like, a slutty pig.

(Sigh.) I should pick a different animal. Pigs get abused in analogies way too often.

"Mimi!"

I turn my gaze from the window and cute blonde boy to Yolei, who looks out of breath as she approaches me. I stand up to greet her, swinging my backpack over my shoulder as I return her grin. "Hey! You're finally finished," I say excitedly as she jogs down the hall. "I almost thought you weren't gonna make it 'cause the mall closes in –"

"Y-YYeah, a-about that…" She stops in front of me, resting her palms on her thighs as she huffs and puffs heavily you'd think she were to blow a hole in the ground. "Ken just got back from the city chess finals and he wants to go – oh he won, by the way, yay!"

I nod hesitantly. "Yay."

"-and so anyway his parents want to take him out for dinner at _Reikki_ and they told him to bring me! Can you believe it? _Me_!"

I nod hesitantly again. "You…"

"And it's like – I've never met them before and what if they don't like me or think I'm not good enough for their son… and oh gosh, if I'd known I'd be meeting them today I wouldn't have eaten that doughnut at lunch –"

"Yolei…"

"-I mean he's perfect, really. He's Ken _Ichijouji._ Ichijoujis are essentially _perfect _and I'm an Inoue and we own a _convenience store_ –"

"_I_ likeconvenience stores…"

"- and he's like a frickin' child prodigy-!"

"Yolei!" I grab her shoulders and shake her a little, making her brief moment of hysteria quickly dissipate. I smile warmly. "It'll be fine. You'll make a great impression on them."

"I would?"

"Well… Not in those clothes… but you would." I glance down at her gym attire and sigh. "When are you supposed to be meeting them?"

She looks away guiltily. "In an hour…"

I raise my eyebrows. "Well then we better get moving!" I shake my head at her and grab onto her wrist. We head toward the doors at the opposite end of the school. "My house's nearby, so you can borrow some of my clothes."

She stumbles a little as I pull her along. "Oh, Mimi, you're the best! I'll pay you back, I promise."

I shake my head as I turn around to glance at her. "Don't worry about it." My eye catches the gaze of the blonde male. "I-I… It's fine."

She shakes her head with a deep frown. "No, I totally blew you off today and I know how much you wanted to go to the mall today–"

I laugh nervously as I glance between her and the male who seems to be quite amused with our banter. "Mall? Silly, it's just a once in a lifetime eighty percent sale on designer shoes – no biggie!" I whip my head around and yank her forward even harder as we turn the corner. "Let's just worry about making you look like the future Mrs. Ichijouji!"

Yolei grumbles something I can't really hear because we're running so fast down the empty school halls. I can hear a strange thundering in my ears as the image of the blonde male's casual smirk lingers in my mind.

_Men are pigs._

Right. Just forget about him.

(He's an awfully cute pig though…)

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	2. sitting underneath a tree

Thanks for all the reviews everyone! I hope this chapter will maintain your interest in this story...

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**.o2 **_sitting underneath a tree_

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I decide I only like him because of his shoes. Which is very, very different from liking the way _he_ looks. Which means I'm _not_ shallow – I am merely an admirer of good fashion when I see it. So hah!

(Even Taichi's got better shoes though…)

Okay, so maybe I like him because of his intelligence instead. Then again, I've yet to actually talk to him and see this wondrous intelligence for myself. I can always ask Joe to sneak him an IQ test or something – the guy owes me a favor for teaching him to break-dance last week.

(Don't ask.)

With a bored sigh I flip the page of my magazine, my gaze planted firmly on the mysterious blonde's face. The lush tree's leaves are shading him from the harsh sun, which is probably for the best anyway since his face is too perfect to be damaged by the effects the hole in the sky that Yolei keeps yapping about.

I've been observing him for the past three days (No, that is _not_ called stalking. Fashion admirer, remember?) and if he weren't really all that handsome, I would've stopped like two and a half days ago. Make that handsome _and_ seemingly _single_. He's the best looking senior I've seen this year and yet he always seems to be alone and reserved. Reading some kind of book underneath that stupid bushy tree and being all boring and antisocial-like every single day at lunch. He doesn't even _eat_ lunch, I don't think. Well, I've never seen him put anything in his mouth except for the occasional soda can or stick of gum.

He must be a new student because guys like him aren't supposed to be all quiet and lonely like that. They're cocky and loudmouthed and have a train of females swooned and following them like a second shadow. The swooned females exist, I am aware of that by the way the junior and senior girls alike look at him as they pass by. But he always seems to give off such a cold and indifferent demeanor that it becomes a little intimidating to approach him and casually ask if he knows the time.

And really, I'm not the kind of girl that gets withdrawn and shy when talking to people. Yolei says I'm sociable. Taichi says my mouth is as wide as his hair. (Which is quite a bold statement, mind you.) And Joe thinks what I tell him to think, which is that I am an assertive, confident, and poised young woman.

_Young woman_. Which means I have _young feelings_. But I'm already seventeen and who's to say that's not a mature age? So perhaps I'm a _mature woman_ instead. With _mature feelings_ and –

-no, okay, stop. Went down the wrong road. What I meant to say is that there shouldn't be anything holding me back from talking to him if I really want to. He smiled at me three days ago in that hallway, (admittedly, it was more a smile of amusement), so it wouldn't be like walking up to a _complete_ stranger. Which is the _mature_ thing to do and –

"You lik_eeeee_ him."

I jump, grasping at the collar of my uniform as Taichi's cheerful face comes into view. "Oh, shut up," I tell him furiously, turning my attention to the magazine. Apparently I had flipped to an article on abnormal menstruation, so I close the magazine all together.

Taichi takes a seat next to me on the bench and smiles. "I don't see what's so great about him that you can't find in me," he says, folding his arms behind his head.

I roll my eyes at him as I pull my legs close to my chest. "I don't think your girlfriend would appreciate that kind of talk."

Taichi shakes his head unworriedly. "It's this kind of talk that got her falling for me _anyway_." He nudges me with a wide grin. "So when are you gonna ask him out?"

"Taichi!"

"Well some girl's gonna sooner or later. Hate to see you kick yourself in the head if it turns out you were too late."

I sigh, sinking in my position. "I don't even know anything about him."

"And how does that make him different from all the other guys you've dated?"

I punch him. Hard. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Taichi rubs the area on his arm with a groan. I don't think he realizes I could've simply aimed a couple inches up and he'd be one eye short. "Ah, geez. Don't have to take your abnormal menstrual pains out on me."

He doges my flying fist.

"Fine, fine. I'm leaving." He smirks as he stands, his face carefree as if poking fun at me was his most relaxing pastime. He pats the area where I had hit him. "I'm going to make new friends," he announces childishly.

I turn my head to the side. "I wish you the _best_ of luck then."

He gives me a playful wink. "And fortunately for you, I'm returning it."

I hesitate momentarily to hear him leave before I turn my attention back to him. What did he mean by that comment? Returning my luck? It's not like it's something tangible that you can toss right back to the owner. Not something like a brand new sweater that you've just realized is way overpriced. Or a plate of food that the restaurant had undercooked. Or a CD player that breaks down the first day. Or a – or a...

...certain cute, friendless, blonde boy…

…

I scramble from my spot on the bench and dash across the field. "Taichi!" I nearly screech in frustration. He smirks again and picks up his speed, running like the wind in those hideous shoes of his that I now have another reason to hate.

Our little show of cat and mouse catches the attention of the blonde guy, and he glances up at both of us stampeding towards him. At this, I slow down, covering my face in humiliation. This was _so_ not the impression I had wanted to make. Running across the field like a crazy mad woman after a crazy big haired mad man and now _my_ hair now looks like I've been sitting in front of a fan for hours and oh – _Taichi's worse than PMS! _

I peek from the gaps between my fingers just in time to see the two conversing, Taichi's finger pointed at me, but I can't hear what he's saying. By the bemused look on the guy's face, it seems as though Taichi has just told him I'm secretly a man.

Groaning inwardly, I slowly lower my hands and watch as Taichi approaches me with a wide smirk on his face. I'm so pumped to treat his grinning head like a soccer ball when he gives me a pat on the shoulder. "Go," he whispers into my ear.

I give him a confused look but he simply nudges me toward the blonde guy before walking away. Tentatively, I glance at him, and he meets my gaze with those sky blue eyes of his. He looks like he's waiting.

_Go,_ Taichi had said, so I go. Awkwardly and worriedly I approach the blonde boy and the tree, ready to dispel any stupid lies Taichi had told him. Like I 'lik_eeeeeee'_ him, or something of the sort. Because I've already established that I'm a _fashion admirer_ –

"Hi."

My knees almost buckle at the smooth sound of his voice, and I wave back a little stupidly. I mentally curse myself as I stand in front of him. "Hi."

He returns his head back to his book, pausing for a moment before looking up again and realizing I hadn't moved. "Did you mean _my_ spot?"

I blink. "I'm sorry, what?"

He nods toward Taichi's small figure in the distance. "Your friend said you wanted a shady spot to sit." He looks slightly irritated as he gestures beside him. "Is that spot not good enough for you or did you want my spot in particular?"

I quickly shake my head, already feeling a blush on my cheeks. "No, no, it's fine, it's fine. I'm sorry – it's –it's fine, really." I tear my eyes away from him as I lower my belongings and sit down on the grass. With clumsy movements I bury my head in my magazine, not daring to look up at his annoyed face.

For a few minutes the silence between us is stiff and uncomfortable and I suddenly wish I were back on my bench just simply admiring him from afar. Up close like this, I'm too nervous, and my heart pounds loudly in my chest. My fingers tremble and I don't understand why really – I don't. It's not like he's _that_ handsome…

"Do you have the time?"

I look up, my voice shaky. "Time?"

He glances at me and again I feel nervous. "Yeah. Time, Do you have it?"

I bite my lip in embarrassment and I look at my watch. "Six-thirty. No – wait. Twelve-twenty five… No wait! I mean thirty! Twelve-thirty, it's twelve-thirty…"

He smiles faintly. "No… Sorry, I meant, do you _have time_?" He glances at my magazine before turning his gaze back to me. "At this moment? Right now?"

I hesitate before nodding in sudden realization. "Ohhh. Yes-uh, yeah. I do, I-I have time to –well, I have… Um, what do you need me to do?" I laugh nervously.

He holds up the book. A book of poetry that I recognize from English class. "I don't understand this poem."

I don't either, but I don't tell him that. Instead, I smile sweetly and inch closer, leaning in. "Let me take a look."

He leans in as well to tilt the pages in my view, accidentally bumping his forehead against mine. We both share a small laugh, and I can feel my stomach flutter slightly as our eyes both scan the Western characters on the page.

_"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
__Thou art more lovely and more temperate  
__Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
__And summer's lease hath all too short a date  
__Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
__And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;  
__And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
__By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;  
__But thy eternal summer shall not fade,  
__Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;  
__Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,  
__When in eternal lines to time thou growest;  
__So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,  
__So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."_ (1)

I pull back, touching my chin. I remember we'd gone over this sonnet just a few days ago, but I more clearly remember the doodling of the principal Joe and I did. (Well, _I_ did. Joe gave me the paper. Joe can't doodle.) "It's talking about how humans enjoy summertime," I say simply. It's not like he'll correct me.

But he glances at me uncertainly, and I almost think I see a smirk behind his expression but I don't. He pulls the book back to his lap and whispers a quiet thanks. With a sigh, I shrink back in my spot and lean against the trunk of the tree. I let my eyes observe him calmly studying the text as a soft smile creeps to my mouth. I make a promise to myself not to punch Taichi… well, for this week, at least.

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(1) William Shakespeare, Sonnet XVIII. 


	3. they sit there everyday

Sorry for the long wait but thanks for all the feedback... I wanted to incorporate the Crest of Sincerity into her personality for this chapter…

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**.o3** _they sit there everyday_

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The end of the day came a half hour ago, and yet he's still sitting there underneath the tree like his butt has been superglued to the grass. (Which is _silly_ because no person in their right mind would purposely glue and deprive the world of such a fine behind.) With a sigh, I tighten my grip around the handle of my bag as I make my way across the field.

For the past few days we've been sitting together at lunch, and he's been taking quite an interest in my interpretation of Elizabethan literature, much to my dismay. I think I'm doing much more harm to his English education that he thinks, but it's the only thing we've really been able to talk about… the only thing I think he feels comfortable talking about to me.

I'm usually terrific at getting people to open up and spill all their secrets, but this guy isn't the type who likes to talk about anything underneath the surface. Essentially, all I know about him is that he's in class 4B, his favorite subject is English, he listens to rock music and likes to eat peanut butter. Oh, and his name is Yamato.

Yama-to. Yam-mama-to. Yama. Mimi. Mimi-to… (giggle)

He looks up from his book suddenly, smiling faintly as he sees me approach him. "What'cha still doing out here?"

He smiles politely but he doesn't answer. _See what I mean?_ He's totally reserved… which just makes getting to know him all the more interesting… (Oh, I _so_ have the makings of a detective!)

I kneel down and turn my head to the side with a smirk. "You read more than my friend Joe, and that's saying _a lot_."

He sighs in amusement, keeping his eyes fixated on the page. "It's relaxing."

I shake my head furiously with a giggle. "No way! Not _school_ related reading."

"There are many kinds."

"But they all turn out to be boring anyway."

Yamato raises his eyebrow at me. "It depends… Some pieces are well worth your time to read." He glances back down at the book. "It makes you think."

I frown slightly. He wasn't getting the fact that I wasn't going to budge on my opinion of educational books, and if he were anyone else, he would've moved on to another topic by now that involved a price tag and credit cards.

If he were anyone else… Which he's not because, well, he's _him_. And he can't be someone else at the same time because that must be a violation of some scientific law. And I'm sure Albert Einstein proved that with an apple or something.

(Perhaps I'd make a great scientist instead…)

"You know," I say, sitting comfortably on the grass. "You're not the typical peanut-butter-eating-rock-music-listener type of person." I smile, hoping he'll follow suit.

He does. "Is that so?"

"It _is_ so," I can't help giggling. He seems very amused with my analysis, which is terrific because that's one of my best skills: figuring people out. And once I figure him out, he'll be so impressed and we'll hug and kiss and make beautiful children!

(… or adopt, thanks to health class.)

I place a finger to my chin and stare at him, hoping he thinks it's cute and not creepy. Then again, my face totally _always_ says cute and not creepy. (Sometimes it says 'idiot.' But that's Taichi's opinion, and Taichi's opinion has no merit.) "You actually seem to like this Shakespeare stuff," I say feeling all psychologist-like.

(Psychology! That's where my future lies!)

He shrugs, probably realizing that it's useless to argue with me.

I grin widely. "I bet your parents just want you to excel in school. The usual, am I right?"

He flinches slightly, his whole demeanor suddenly changed as he fixes his eyes on the page. "Nope," he replies coldly.

I swallow at his reaction and fold my hands over each other. I must've said something wrong. Offended him in some unintentional way. Like when Joe says _"It's **only** a sweater, Mimi."_ and I have a mental breakdown because I know that it's _THE_ sweater and Joe doesn't appreciate fashion the way I do – and oh dear! I must have just done something of the sort right this moment to Yamato.

I have to take it all back or he'll never talk to me again. Never want anything to do with me, or even see me, and those poor children in Yemen will never be adopted –

"Then _why _do you read it?! Something some dead guy wrote hundreds of years ago in a language no one even uses anymore! EEP-!" I suddenly clasp my hand around my mouth, my eyes wide in shock at how rudely and unexpectedly I just blurted that out.

Yamato stares at me in surprise, his hands frozen on the pages.

Words scrabble desperately on my tongue. "No – wait. I'm sorry, I meant – Well…" Oh I hate myself. I'm bad, bad, _bad_. Perhaps I'm destined to be an evil villain instead. One whose super power is to carelessly crush the values of handsome people everywhere.

I can never lie very well when I have a strong opinion about something. Everything always has to come out honestly when I speak. Which is probably both a virtue and a vice. Tragic, really. I shake my head apologetically. "I'm sorry, really. It was – It didn't come out the way – Well, it wasn't _supposed_ to come out _at all_ and well… "

He nods tentatively as if in agreement, still bemused. There's an awkward silence that follows as I keep my gaze on the ground and he keeps his on me. In my mind, I count the number of seconds, then minutes, that pass by. "You know," he finally speaks, voice low. "You're… You're not a typical… pink haired girl."

I glance up at him, not really sure how to respond. He's smirking faintly.

"You're… You're a little stu-… strange."

I suddenly feel like my body's going to curl up like a sushi roll from the embarrassment. (Which is _silly_, physically impossible, and must violate another apple law.) Of all the things I had imagined him saying to me once we got to know each other better, "strange" definitely wasn't one of them. But then again, I hadn't expected I would so openly insult his tastes either.

With an honest sigh, I get on my knees and make a motion to stand with what integrity I have left….

And use it.

"Well you're not so normal yourself either, buddy." I pick up my bag off the ground, huffing frustratedly. "You sit here every day in those ugly shoes reading a boring book that's not _even_ in your native language and completely shut yourself from the world around you."

(I reinstate my earlier notion of being a psychologist.)

"And you call _me_ strange?" I say, folding my arms across my chest. "Well at least I'm not _WEIRD_." I pause. "Like _you_." And stomp off.

I feel really good about how I handled that. Really. Well, I kind of _have_ to in order to make my grand exit effective. Ugh. Never again am I falling for a guy who doesn't completely agree with everything I say.

"Wait!"

I freeze, my eyes wide again but this time for a different reason. My heart suddenly beats a lot faster than usual, and my hands feel a little numb as I hear his footsteps walk over the grass.

"Wait," he says again. And he must be one of those good-looking-stupid-people because I'm already standing still. "I… I didn't mean to call you 'strange'. I'm… sorry if I… hurt your feelings or whatever."

I turn around, frowning. He's not getting off that easy. I'd whack Taichi with my lunch tray if he ever called me something as absurd as 'strange'. Although… Taichi isn't a cute blonde boy with his hands buried in his pockets and his pretty blue eyes forced to stare at the soil in guilt. It makes me want to go easy on him. Sort of.

"I'm just… I'm not really good… around people," he mumbles.

"Well, fine… but you must know it's not good to call people 'strange,'" I answer, narrowing my eyes.

He lifts his face, suddenly narrowing his eyes too. "And you must know to keep your rude opinions to yourself," he retorts.

"I was trying to make conversation!"

"You were trying to get on my _nerves_!"

"Well, now you're on _my_ nerves!"

"Well so are _you_!"

"Yeah?!"

"_YEAH!_"

I growl underneath my breath and ball my fists at his answer. A raindrop splashes against my forehead from above, and I furiously wipe it away before it makes me look like I'm crying. And that's so not cool when I'm having the most intense staring contest of the century with my ex-crush.

Another raindrop dies all over my eyelashes. I blink instinctively. _Dammit!_

Gripping the handle of my bag, I whirl around and march off. It'll be raining anytime soon and I do not wish to be caught umbrella-less in a thunderstorm while still having to be on guard and tough. The sound of his retreating footsteps tells me he has the same idea.

A sudden rush of raindrops makes me pick up my pace toward home. Today was just an awful experience that I never want to think about again. It's a good thing I got to see this side of him before I started (continued) to write his name all over my notebooks. This side of him that's all angry and loud… and confident… and defensive… (Heh, it's actually a bit of a turn on…)

I slow down. Hesitantly, I turn around to look at the tree we were under just a few moments ago. I spot him trying to scramble together his books and stuff them underneath his jacket from the pouring rain. Silly thing didn't even think to bring a bag with him.

Some unexplained feeling inside of me makes me walk back to him. Makes me jog back to him with my bag swinging underneath my arm. Something that has to do with the fact that he's "not good around people" and that he reads because it makes him "think." Something that has to do with the fact that he's virtually always by himself and probably lonely. And top that with his hideous shoes and you've got a pretty miserable person underneath a rainy sky.

"Hey!" I call out when I get near. I unzip my bag and hold out my arm. "Give me the books, I'll put 'em in here!"

He gives me a doubtful look before handing them over, and I read "thanks" in his eyes when I don't hear him say it. We stand awkwardly in front of each other as water slides down our faces. "We should get somewhere dry," he says over the rumble of thunder.

I nod. "There's an overhang in front of the school… around the corner!"

He starts jogging. I grab his wrist.

"No! The other corner!" I correct him, pulling him behind me in the proper direction.

He nods slowly, and I roll my eyes. I quickly release his wrist as soon as he's caught up and the overhang is within sight. A funny sensation fills me as I suddenly realize that this is the first time we've ever been anywhere but underneath that stupid tree.

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Please R&R 


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